


The Man You Want To Be

by Elementhyde



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Coming of Age, Low Honor Arthur Morgan, No Relationship, One Shot, Personal Growth, good dad hosea, good mom susan, good parenting, hamish is a smart man, just a good dad, time to start thinking for yourself boy, tumblr requests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-05-01 19:08:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19183882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elementhyde/pseuds/Elementhyde
Summary: Request from Tumblr for Hosea to be a good dad and try and talk some sense into LH Arthur. Time to grow up boy.





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was cresting over the bluffs as Arthur trotted back into camp, his face, chest, and neck stained red with blood. His sleeves had been rolled to the elbow and his forearms were stained with the same deep reddish brown as his face. He dismounted and hitched his horse near the edge of camp, he stalked toward his tent, his shoulders felt heavier as he saw his cot. 

It had been a long night, made longer when he came across those damn raiders. It had been his pleasure to rid the world of them, but like the roaches they were there seemed to be more each time.

He kicked off his boots and flopped onto his cot, shutting his eye tightly against the dawn and soon drifted out of consciousness.

The sun was high in the sky when he opened his eyes to the sound of Hosea clearing his throat, the older man leaned against the table in the tent, reading over a newspaper clipping in his hand. 

Arthur swung his legs over the side of his cot running his hand through his hair to push it out of his face.

“Hosea.” His voice was hoarse with sleep, his head cradled in his hands.

“Arthur, how are you today son?” Hosea continued to inspect the clipping. Arthur pushed himself up from the cot, stretching out his back and shoulders, giving his neck a quick crack before walking over to the his mirror and razor. Hosea glanced up at him, watching him move away. “Gonna wash up a bit? That’s an awful lot of blood, everything okay?”

“Had a run in with the local trash is all, ain’t nothin’ to worry about.” Arthur scooped a handful of cool water and splashed it onto his face, rubbing vigorously. The red dripped down his arms, further staining his cuffed sleeves. He wiped the excess water from his face with his forearm before shaking out his hands and wiping them on his pants. He turned to face Hosea, giving his a mocking ‘better?’ gesture.

“You look like shit, clean up and change your clothes before Jack sees you.” Hosea’s mouth pressed into a thin line, not appreciating the attitude. “What the hell is wrong with you? You look like you butchered them. What happened?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, unbuttoning and stripping off his shirt. He dipping it into the water and scrubbed the remaining blood from his chest, neck, and arms. He discarded it on the cot, pulling a new one from his trunk. Digging again he pulled out a new pair of pants.

“They ambushed me on my way back in last night, the assholes wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I helped them see how valid an answer it was.” He pulled off his pants, adjusting his cotton drawers before pulling the clean pants back on. He turned to face Hosea, his eyes dark. “No one is gonna miss that scum anyhow, so what’s it matter?”

“You know we don’t need any more attention, less killing would definitely help. You can’t just come waltzin’ back into camp looking like you gutted a pig. You know better, boy!” Hosea’s tone was angry and tired, tinged with concern. He reached out to grab Arthur’s shoulder.

“You rather that scum was out there harassin’ others? I did the world a favor, and I would do it again. There weren’t no witnesses, it was late. We’re safe. Let it go.” He shrugged off Hosea’s hand, slipping on the new shirt. He returned to the small mirror and looked himself over, the blood still flecked his hair, so he washed it out in the basin and shook out the excess before slicking it back.

“It just seems like there’s been a lot of unnecessary death in the past few weeks, it ain’t like you to come back to camp covered in blood. I’m guess I’m just an old fool, worrying about you.”

“The last couple of weeks have been hell! We are runnin’ for our lives, ain’t like we’ve had much of a choice! I’m just doin’ what needs to be done to keep our family safe! Can’t leave no one to recognize us, not any more.”  He barked back at Hosea, his expression hard. Hosea sighed, his shoulders sagged. He turned and placed the clipping on the table before stepping out of the tent. 

“Time’s comin’ to start looking at things for yourself Arthur, this ain’t you talking.”

Arthur fumed, he couldn’t understand, Hosea above anyone else should understand what they were doing, keeping their family safe. Why now he chose to have his faith in Dutch falter, had he ever done anything that wasn’t for the family? Arthur crossed back to his cot, dropping down with a sigh, cradling his head in his hands.

 _Could he be right? Things have gone to shit way more lately, Dutch had taken a fancy to Micah. There were so many people to protect and yet everything kept getting more reckless._  

Arthur raised his head, staring out into camp. He noticed the scrap of paper left on the table by Hosea. He rose and reached for the paper. His eyes widened as he skimmed over the headline, he turned back to look the direction Hosea walked.

**BRAZEN BANK ROBBERY**  
_THREE MEN SOUGHT_

Arthur skimmed over the article, his first bank robbery with Dutch and Hosea. He thought he lost this when they fled Blackwater, just another thing left behind. 

It felt like a lifetime ago, back then there weren’t nearly as many of them. John, that bastard, had taken off leaving Abigail alone with Jack. Uncle, Bill, and Javier were green and hadn’t earned their place yet. Bessie and Susan were needed to help with Jack, it had just been the three of them that day, small and tight planned for days beforehand. 

It hadn’t been like now, they gave most that money back to the poor, keeping only what they needed. Fighting civilization, the Leviticus Cornwall’s of the world, but now were they really any better than those tycoons? It didn’t seem like it was about sending a message, just taking for themselves same as these men.

He turned back to camp, looking over everyone as they busied themselves with chores, his family, they’d grown and been through hell together. Keeping them safe was all that mattered, and he had been set on that, but Hosea’s words echoed in his mind. He had told himself it was out of concern for his family, but he had enjoyed it and that made Arthur’s stomach drop.

Hosea had been talking for weeks about both he and John needing to think for themselves, that the world was changing, and maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to decide just what kind of man he wanted to be.


	2. You are loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets himself into another mess, and Ms. Grimshaw sets him straight. Another request from tumblr, but it fits here so we will call it chapter 2

The blood oozed slowly from his side, the ride had been agonizing but the smell of firewood reached his nose through the trees. He felt the last of his strength draining as he pulled into the campsite. Slumping over the back of his horse as it came to stop near the outskirts of camp. A groan escaped him as the horse dipped it’s head to graze, seemingly unfazed by it’s passenger. It’s Kieran who finds him, moving against the darkness on his way to the scout fire.

“Arthur? ARTHUR!” His voice grated against Arthur’s skull, panic laced his tone as he felt the hands grasp around his arm and begins to tug him down off the horse’s back. “Someone help! Arthur’s hurt!” Arthur felt himself slip, landing heavily on Kieran in the dirt. “Hey, stay with me, Arthur, can you hear me?” The camp came to life, Arthur’s side pulsed and his head swam, he groaned heavily.

“M’fine, just a scrape, just need to sleep it off.” Arthur attempted to roll off Kieran, his movement stopped as a sharp pain shot up his side, collapsing back onto Kieran’s chest.

“Mr. Morgan, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Kieran, take Mr. Morgan to his tent and get his shirt off so we can see what stupid thing he has done this time.” Susan’s voice left no room for argument. Kieran nodded and slowly carried the Arthur back to his tent lying him as gently as he could onto his cot.

The blood stuck to his union suit and as Kieran peeled off the layers of clothes causing Arthur to hiss with pain, bringing his fist down on a particularly painful tug.

“S-sorry. Almost done. This looks bad Arthur, what happened?” Kieran got up, pulling a kerchief from his pocket he soaked it in some water and came back to clean the wound. Arthur winced as Kieran gently cleaned around the wound, blood still oozing from it.

“Guess they thought I was cheatin’ at cards, took a cheap shot and caught me in the side.” Arthur chuckled darkly at Kieran between gritted teeth. “Last time though.”Susan walked into the tent, her scowl wiped the smirk off Arthur’s face.

“Kieran, how does it look, am I gonna need to stitch it up?” Her eyes burned into Arthur, her scowl made him shudder slightly. He really hoped she didn’t need to get at him with the needle, because she was spittin’ mad and she wasn’t going to be gentle.

“Most likely, ma’am. Seems the bleedin’ ain’t stoppin’. It’s deep, but seems like a clean cut.”

“Go get my supplies, the girls can help you.” Her eyes still trained on Arthur. Kieran got up and left leaving them alone.

“Now, I don’t wan--”

“Arthur, the hell is wrong with you lately. You’re being reckless, you could have been killed!” Her voice shaking with anger.

“I’ll live, I’ve had worse.” He sighed. “Plus, ain’t like I asked them to stab me. Feller thought I was cheatin’ at cards, stabbed me while I was playin’.” Susan bent over to inspect the wound, her hands pushing on the skin around the puncture, Arthur wincing.

“Were you?” Her voice still stern, but softer, picking up the kerchief she continued to prod and examine the wound.

“Ain’t my fault they had bad tells.” Arthur shrugged his shoulders slightly, sweat beading on his forehead, keeping himself awake against the fog in his mind. Susan stood up, arching a brow to him, she turned and yelled into the camp.

“Ain’t aiming to let him bleed out for his poor choices, hurry up with those supplies Kieran!” She turned back to Arthur. “Stay awake now, I need you awake.”

Kieran came running back, Karen in tow, both with bandages and Karen’s sewing kit.

“I couldn’t find yours, Karen’s got hers.” Kieran placed the cotton on the table and backed out of the tent. “What else you need?”

“Get Arthur some water, quickly. Karen, keep him awake.”

“Ma’am” Kieran jogged off to grab his canteen. Karen moved to Arthur’s side, earning a grumble from him.

“Ain’t that bad…” he muttered, “no need to be makin’ such a fuss.”

“Shut up, you’re being an idiot.” Karen quipped, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “You look like shit an’ you know it.”

Susan worked quickly, poking her fingers into the wound to make sure there wasn’t more damage deeper inside, Arthur’s grip on the cot tightened, his body stiffening. Confident as she could be there was nothing awful inside she started to stitch it closed, pulling the skin together tightly.

Karen grabbed for Arthur’s hand as he reached out his eyes pressed tightly closed, she squeezed his hand, picking up the canteen with the other.

“Hey, we’re almost done, here, have some water.” She pressed the canteen to his lips. The water trickled down his throat, the cool water like ice against his skin, he drifted out of consciousness.

\----

The sun was high in the sky when Arthur woke, his side stiff with pain and the taste of iron on his tongue. Susan sat beside him in the tent, silently reading. She glanced over as he stirred, he expression hard, she reached over and pulled the wet cloth from his forehead.

“You’re a damn fool Mr. Morgan. Reckless and hot-headed. You could’ve died last night. Over something as stupid as a card game.” Her tone cold and the words bit into him. “You’ve been acting a fool for weeks now, what’s got into you boy?” His voice croaked, his throat was dry and his body heavy as he tried to pull himself up onto his elbows.

“Ain’t trying to be, just seems that things have been more reckless the last few weeks.” Susan’s hand firmly pushing him back onto the cot. She shook her head, clear she didn’t believe a word he said.

“That ain’t what I mean, and you know it.” She glanced out at the camp, and sighed. “We both know you ain’t been acting like yourself. What are you tryin’ to prove?” Her voice was softer now, filled with concern, Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his voice low.

“I dunno, guess things just different since Marston came back. He comes back and we celebrate, we’re supposed to just get back to normal, like he didn’t abandon us. We just supposed to be happy he’s back? All if forgiven?” He closed his eyes again, exhaling slowly through his nose.

“‘Course we’re happy he’s back, boy! He’s family!” Her tone incredulous, jealousy was the cause of this? She never had seen the boy as jealous, but here she felt the insecurity. “We’d of done the same for you. You know that, right?” Her hand went out to him, grabbing softly onto his arm, coaxing him to look at her. Arthur chuckled darkly, his eyes not meeting hers.

“You ain’t gotta lie, I know I ain’t the golden boy, they’ve always like Johnny better.”

“Arthur Morgan.” Her tone chiding. “You really think this family don’t care about you?” She reached out and gently wiping the beading sweat from his forehead. She moved to check the bandages around his side. Cutting them slowly and gingerly unwrapping the cotton.

“Of course they care, for what I can do, who I can intimidate, what I can steal.” He paused, flinching slightly under Susan’ touch. “I know my role, what we need, and it ain’t some blushing daisy. So I do what needs doin’ even if that means killin’. To protect all of ya. That’s my job, my purpose, ain’t got the luxury to worry if it’s for love.” His voice was small and hollow, his eyes miles away.

Susan’s hands continued their work, she gently washed the wound the skin around it red and angry, but the heat was significantly less than last night. She thanked whatever deity watched over her idiot son, the man was reckless with his body, always had been, but listening to him now it all came together. He was so closed off from everyone, because he felt that no one cared. She gestured for him to sit up, her face neutral as she worked.

He was slow to rise, his face contorting with the pain and his side on fire with each movement, he rested his arms on his knees as Susan wrapped his torso with clean linen. She placed the supplies on the table before sitting down on the cot, she wrapped her arms around him gingerly pulling him to her chest.

“Now that just ain’t true, you’re loved. If by no one else, by me.” She pulled him back and gently turned his face to look at her. “But you act a fool again, and I’ll kill you myself.” She pulled him back into the hug, letting him break it off. “Get some rest Arthur, I’ll be back to check on you. You stay in this bed! You need anything you call someone.”

Arthur grunted a response as she helped him lie back, placing a fresh cool rag on his head. His chest tightened and he closed his eyes, Susan had been the closest thing to a mother since he joined the gang, and it had been a long time since she sat and had a private talk with him. He blinked against the harsh mid-day light and exhaled deeply, he stared at the canvas above him.

“I am loved.” He said to himself before closing his eyes again and letting the healing sleep take over. “Who could ever love a bastard like me?”


	3. We All Have Pasts, It's Our Futures That Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish learns a bit more about Arthur, and Arthur worries about the friendship. One shot request from Tumblr, continuing in Arthur's journey.

Arthur had spent too much time around camp, the depressing aura hung heavily around the camp. Those that were left sat in gloomy silence, everyone was on edge, the love that was once there all but gone. Arthur let the lid of his chest close as he buttoned his clean shirt before turning to the campfire to grab some coffee, pulling his suspenders into place as he walked. He quickly drained the coffee and stored the cup heading off toward the horses.

Kieran was sorely missed, the horses pawed nervously at the ground as he approached, they were looking thin from the near constant running. Ulysses nickered as he approached trotting over and pushing his head into Arthur’s arm, Arthur chuckled and handed the eager horse an apple leading him over to get him tacked up. He looked around for anything to share with the other horses, coming up empty, he would have to see about that next time he was in town.

Today he was on his way back west, the camp needed supplies and though they were smaller now he still felt it was his job to do what he could to care for the ones left. They weren’t going to survive the year, he was sure of his fate, but if nothing else he could keep those left alive and would save them if he could. He would give them a choice that so many hadn’t had in the past couple weeks, to live, even if it killed him. Hell, especially if it killed him. It was all that mattered, all that was left; to make sure he saved as many as he could to atone.

Arthur pulled back on the reigns, he had been traveling for the better part of the morning when he began to recognize the area around O’Creagh’s Run, he redirected Ulysses toward the Hamish’s house, one of the few good things Arthur had found in their mad dash east. He would drop by and check on the man, maybe fish a bit and depending on how that went he would try and hunt something a bit more substantial.

Three Sisters crested over the hill as he approached, the lake coming into view as he reached the top. It really was something else, breathtaking in any other situation. Arthur let his mind wander, he could see himself settling in an area like this, not that he had that option anymore, but it would have been a nice place to live out his last days. He approached the house, Hamish was sitting on the porch, gun slung across his lap, reading the paper. Arthur cleared his throat on his approach, though he was sure that Hamish had heard him coming up.

“Anything interesting in there?” Arthur asked his free hand balled against this thigh. The gang had not exactly been lying low and their names had graced the papers more than once in the recent editions. He hadn’t spoken much about it with Hamish, it had never come up and their time together had been the closest thing to an escape that Arthur had in damn near a year. A truly selfish reason, but what had it hurt to not tell the man? 

“I’d say, been a might of trouble around here.” Hamish let the paper fall slightly his eyes on Arthur. Arthur’s chest tightened, he knew that look, the distrust bored into him. He reached and pulled his hat from his head, carding his free hand through his hair, unable to meet Hamish’s gaze.

“I-I told you my name, ain’t no use hiding it, I figured you’d find out eventually.” He sighed heavily. “It ain’t how the papers put it you know.” 

He didn’t even believe himself, why would Hamish. The truth stood starkly in front of Arthur, the past few months had been hard, decisions were made, but that wasn’t the kind of people they were. None of that mattered, because who they were? That died along with that girl in Blackwater, the amount of people they had killed in the last few months, that is all that mattered. Arthur Morgan: murderer, outlaw, lieutenant of the Van Der Linde gang that is all he was now. He stayed on Ulysses back, hat still clutched in his hands, waiting for the man to tell him to leave.

Hamish folded the paper and stood, dropping the paper into the seat and propping the shotgun against the side of the house. Arthur watched him unmoving, he wouldn’t fight if Hamish pulled the gun on him, it was what he deserved.

“We all got shit we ain’t proud of.” Hamish took a step toward the door, turning his back to Arthur as he went. “You ain’t never been nothing but helpful to me. Don’t see why our relationship should change based on some drivel I read in the paper from someone who’s never seen you.” He turned realizing that Arthur remained unmoving. “You comin’ in? I got whiskey, and I’m sure you want to talk.” He disappeared into the house. Arthur felt the anxiety seeping out of his body he pulled his hat on and dropped down from the saddle, hitching Ulysses and making his way inside.

Hamish was seated at the table in the warm cabin, a smile crossed his face as Arthur walked inside. He gestured for Arthur to join him at the table and offered him the bottle of whiskey. Arthur stopped momentarily in the doorway, his instincts still keeping him from relaxing fully around a man who showed him no threat. Arthur kicked himself, how this must look? Hamish was offering an olive branch and here he was slapping him in the face for it. He stepped into the cabin and remove his hat, placing it on the hook near the door, Hamish chuckled.

“Boy, you look like a grazing buck. Sit down! Have some whiskey, relax. We have a lot to talk about.” He wiggled the bottle in his hand, his smile unwavering. Arthur nodded slightly and slid into the chair, grabbing the bottle from Hamish’s hand he stared down at it. 

“You don’t have to pretend you’re okay with this for my sake. I know I ain’t a good man, no hiding that.” Arthur gaze moved to the lake out the window, still not able to make eye contact with Hamish. He felt the arm on his shoulder and his eyes fell again before turning to finally look at the other man.

“Who we are in private reflects our truest selves. A bad man would have never stopped to help me like you did. You may have done some bad things, but I don’t believe that makes you an inherently bad man.” Hamish held out a hand for the bottle. “But if my whiskey isn’t good enough, give it back.” Arthur’s throaty chuckle lightened the air as he handed over the bottle. 

“Well then, you ain’t the best judge of character. ‘Specially if you read what they say I did. But, I ain’t gonna turn away someone who knows what I’ve done and still wants to associate with me.” He shook his head and sat back, holding out a hand as a show of solidarity. Hamish guffawed and smacked the bottle into his hand.

“We all have our demons, boy. Any friend in this world is a good one.” Arthur turned to look at him for the first time completely lost for words. They sat in silence for a few minutes, sharing the whiskey between them. Arthur finally broke the silence, the whiskey helping him find the words.

“I don’t often get to call another a friend, but I’m glad to be able to call you one of them.” He raised the bottle to Hamish before taking a quick drink and handing the bottle back.

“Enough of this sappy shit! Let’s go fishing.” He polished off the bottle and slammed it onto the table. Arthur motioned for Hamish to lead the way and before following him out to the lake.


End file.
